#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
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From: t89par@albireo.tdb.uu.se (Par Svensson)
THE POGUES - "Young Ned Of The Hill"
Comments, corrections etc. welcome.
Par Svensson, t89par@tdb.uu.se
Riff #1:
e ---------------------------------------------------------8-8-6----
B -----------6-------------------------------6-----6---6-8-------8--
G -----5-7-8---7-------5-7-5-----------5-7-8---7-8---8--------------
D -5-8-----------8-5-8-------8-5---5-8------------------------------
A -------------------------------8----------------------------------
E ------------------------------------------------------------------
-----8-8-6--------------------------------------------------------
-6-8-------8---------6---------------------6-----------8-6--------
-------------5-5-7-8---8-7-5-7-------5-7-8---7-------5-----7---5--
-------------------------------8-5-8-----------8-5-8---------8----
------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------
Riff #2:
e ----------------------------------------
B ----------------------------------------
G ---------------------5------------------
D -8-5-------------------8-5--------------
A -----8-6---6-8---6-8-------8-6---6-8----
E ---------8-----8---------------8-----8--
Play it: #1 #1 #2 #1 #1 #2 etc.
Have you ever walked the lonesome hills
And heard the curlews cry
And seen the raven black as night
Upon the windswept sky
To walk the purple heather
And hear the westwind cry
To know that's where the rapparee must die
Since Cromwell pushed us westward
To live our lowly lives
There's some of us have deemed to fight
From Tipperary mountains high
Noble men with wills of iron
Who are not afraid to die
Who'll fight with gaelic honour held on high
Chorus:
A curse upon you Oliver Cromwell
You who raped our Motherland
I hope you're rotting down in hell
For the horrors that you sent
To our misfortunate forefathers
Whom you robbed of their birthright
"To hell or Connought" may you burn in hell tonight
Of such a man I'd like to speak
A rapparee by name and deed
His family dispossessed and slaughtered
They put a price upon his head
His name is known in song and story
His deeds are legend still
And murdered for blood money
Was young Ned of the hill
You have robbed our homes and fortunes
Even drove us from our land
You tried to break our spirit
But you'll never understand
The love of dear old Ireland
That will forge an iron will
As long as there are gallant men
Like young Ned of the hill